The cow moos past. The herdsman belts a whip. He does not look at you or even acknowledge you. As you think, he is mere savage, no literate tongue, no keen gaze, and immune to your latest fancies: a tv show, or happening tie, femme fatale, or the high-end restaurant even if his cow ennobles the cuisine. For you, he is here to sell his cows. The space between you connects you in fact but not in spirit. You think… Read more